


Whistle In The Dark

by Kanra_chan



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama & Romance, Horror, M/M, Mystery, Zombie AU, Zombies, not zombie apocalypse, small amounts of humor, three-shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanra_chan/pseuds/Kanra_chan
Summary: It was like looking in a room and seeing an out of place shadow. You couldn’t explain why or how it was out of place, but the room was too cold and you were frightened. You leave, you don’t look back, and it’s not till you’re safe in bed hours later and almost asleep that you realize… there was no object there to cause the shadow, and it had been moving.The shadow had been moving.





	1. Fevers Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Oooooh dear. This was supposed to be a oneshot. Damn. But three isn't bad, right?
> 
> Inspired by this Pinterest post https://www.pinterest.com/pin/266979084133874250/

Humanity, forever oblivious to the obvious. In some ways, Izaya loved this. It made them so fun to tease, so easy to manipulate, so exciting to see break when they realized the truth. He adored playing with his humans of course.

But sometimes, their obliviousness to the truth was maddening.

Couldn’t they just listen to him, listen to their God when he so clearly knew better? Okay, sure, maybe he was a bit of a trickster and liked to weave webs of lies, but couldn’t they trust him on this? Couldn’t they see what was right in front of them for what it-what he, was? Couldn’t they believe him when he said that Shizuo Heiwajima was a monster?

“Raauurrrgh!” He was running, fast as his legs could carry him down their chosen alleyway. The monster behind him, almost as fast but not clever at all, was doing surprisingly splendid job of keeping up. He pushed himself harder, despite knowing he wouldn’t make it.

They just couldn’t see it, and that was the problem. They trusted their eyes, they bent to the expectation of others. More often than not, humans ignored instinct in favor of their false logics and realities; turned a blind eye when something was _clearly_ wrong.

“Grrraarghhh!” He ducked under the powerful swipe of a monster grabbing for him, twisting his body backward as the only way to avoid the oncoming blow. He didn’t, however, see the other arm, sweeping out at his leg. It grabbed hold as he fell, wrestled to the dusty ground.

It was like looking in a room and seeing an out of place shadow. You couldn’t explain why or how it was out of place, but the room was too cold and you were frightened. You leave, you don’t look back, and it’s not till you’re safe in bed hours later and almost asleep that you realize… there was no object there to cause the shadow, and it had been moving. The shadow had been moving.

The monster twisted him via it’s grip on his leg, flipping him onto his side and just out of reach of his destination. He kicked out, foot stomping over and over on the top of the monsters stupid head as he scrambled back, trying desperately to reach behind him lest he have to cave to plan B. _Again._

The monster pulled itself up to hover over him, snarling down with teeth bared hungrily. He struggled back still, not yet ready to give up, but figuring at this point he really had no choice.

Humans were so stupid, so oblivious, so ready to ignore what they couldn’t explain and avoid being unaware at all costs.

Teeth scraped his neck, not even to scratch, just barely pressing there against his skin, and Izaya’s resolve broke.

“Shizu-chan!” He growled out, panic showing through in his voice as he fought to keep the monster at bay with hands against its chest. There was a curse, angry and a little panicked as well, and the monster was knocked off of him before it could bite. Its teeth chomped furiously at the air, dead eyes still locked on Izaya as Shizuo held it down a few a feet away.

It continued to struggle and bite even as Shizuo tore it’s head from its body, biting part of its own tongue off in the process. Decapitation didn’t stop the head, still snapping away with its bloody stump tongue wiggling behind its teeth. Oddly enough, Izaya couldn’t but think of those chomping wind up teeth children liked. Shizuo grabbed the head and began to slam it down as Izaya sat up, splitting it’s skull enough to pry it open. All movement ceased.

“Damn it!” Shizuo snapped angrily, reaching into the split skull and tearing off a chunk of brain. “Damn it, _damn_ it! We were so fucking close!” He popped it into his mouth as if it were just really, really thick, bloody cotton candy.

Izaya couldn’t decide which would disgust him more, human brain or pink  tooth rotting fluff.

“It was too fast,” Izaya sighed, one hand ruffling through his own hair and the other draped across his knees lazily. “I couldn’t get to the damn trap.”

“This is the fifth time,” Shizuo growled around more brain. It was disgusting, watching him talk with his mouth full of the pink flesh that was once a human mind and later a mindless creature. Two in one, he thought with some amusement.

And now, it was even a meal! Its parents might’ve been proud.

“I know, I know. We’ll get it right next time,” Izaya sighed again, looking away from the dirty mess that was currently Shizuo Heiwajima. “I think if I can just start with a little more distance-”

“We tried that,” Shizuo snarled, almost finished with his cannibalistic dinner. “It loses the scent if you’re more than five feet away at anytime, you _know_ that. You just gotta be faster!”

“And just who do you think I am, The Flash?” Izaya growled back, nauseous as he glanced at Shizuo to find the blond licking the split-open skull, searching for any leftovers. Necessary or not, it was still disgusting. “I can only move so quickly.”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” Shizuo bit out, throwing the skull to the side and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A hand that Izaya would remind himself not to ever, ever touch.

Not that he held any interest in holding Shizuo’s hand, of course.

Tch, looking at the monster was more disgusting than looking at the fading remains of the rotten human shell. His skin was as clear, tand, and deceptively human as it almost always was. It was nothing like the sunken, rotting green like the other monster he’s just devoured. Surprisingly, the trick to that was all the milk he drank.

He didn’t reply, deciding the monster behind him wasn’t worth his words. Besides, they’d argued over this far more times than he cared for and he was too tired right now to go again.

“Maybe you’d be faster if you didn’t always wear that stupid fuckin coat-hey! Where’re you goin!?” Shizuo shouted, as Izaya dusted himself and walked away. He had places to be, after all.

“Home,” he replied nonchalantly over his shoulder. Shizuo stood up to follow him, stomping over with that inhuman speed of his. He was always faster after his meals...

His arm is roughly grabbed, and he’s yanked backwards a few steps. He grits his teeth harder, turning to stare up at Shizuo with an angry glare. His arm aches with how hard he’s being gripped, and it reminds him of the day he found out Shizuo was a monster. It went as far back as their teen years, a sunny day after school when even the clubs had left and no one was around.

Or so he had thought…

* * *

 

 He’d been headed home after collecting bets on his latest gambles, passing the doors to the school cafeteria when he’d heard some strange noises. Growling, mostly, accompanied by the cling clang of fallen pots and other kitchenware. He slipped through the doors, unlocked surprisingly enough, and headed towards the kitchen where the cafeteria staff prepared their meals.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” It was Shizuo he found, as he peeked through another set of doors. His enemy had looked young and terrified that day, as he pinned down another student. They’d been thrashing underneath Shizuo, and to Izaya’s innocence he’d naturally assumed they were scared. He couldn’t see their face, after all…

“Ah, Shizu-chan,” He sighed, stepping through the doors. He found his knife and brought it threateningly into view. “Still picking on humans, I see?” Shizuo had visibly tensed at his voice, looking up at Izaya with undisguised panic. He was sweaty, panting in the space between him and the restrained student half hidden from Izaya’s view by a conveniently placed food cart.

There were streaks of half dried blood smeared across the floor, along with stray pots and pans. It seemed as though quite the struggle had recently taken place. Whoever Shizuo had pinned down, a female student going by the skirt, kept thrashing and growling furiously, apparently not as terrified as Izaya had assumed. Something dark and furious swept through Izaya with surprising force. This didn’t look like a fight… it looked like Shizuo wanted something from her, and intended to take it by force like the disgusting monster he truly was.

“You’d know about picking on people, wouldn’t you!?” Shizuo snapped, glaring with terrified fury. What had him so spooked? Ah, was it the fact that he was caught? Maybe it was that this mightn’t have been the first time…

“Just what are you doing to her, hmm?” Izaya asked angrily, voice rising a little as he watched Shizuo pin the kid down harder. “Got fed up with the fact that no girl would ever willingly touch you?”

“Fuck you!” Shizuo half gasped, looking up at him with such horror and disgust that Izaya almost regretted what he had just implied. If it weren’t so obvious what was happening…

“I think it’s you who intended to do the fucking, you miserable monster.”

Shizuo didn’t get a chance to answer as the student suddenly sprung up with enough force to knock the blond a good distance away. He crashed into a cart full of pies, pumpkin by the strong smell of it, and winds up covered in sweet pie goop and broken crusts. The student, streaked with what was probably her own plasma and growling, stops her lurch towards Shizuo abruptly. She’s panting as she stands there, turned away enough away that Izaya can’t see her face.

“My my, you’re awfully strong,” he compliments, stepping closer. There’s something off, something dreadfully wrong, and his curiosity is peaked. “Stronger than Shizu-chan, maybe…” The air grew tense, filling him with a sudden fear as he stares at the back of the unknown students back. He starts to sweat when he picks up on a foul, rotting stench, and notices, distantly, that the skin of her arms and legs is just a little too… well, _green_ , to be normal.

“Izaya, stay back!” Shizuo warns, as the girls head swivels around to focus on him. “It’s a-...it's not, it's not human.”

It’s too late. He finds himself paralyzed by the sight of the thing before him. It’s skin, once clear and healthy, has turned green and sunken with rot. Its eyes are unfocused, yellow at the whites of her eyes in the ugliest of way. There’s no visible pupil to be seen (ha) no matter how hard he looks, (haha!) and the sight (HAHAHA!) is dreadful.

Worst of all are the teeth, bared in a hungry snarl. Izaya is smart, so smart, unfortunately, that he realizes Shizuo’s scent has been covered by the pies and that, to this-this...creature, Izaya is the only human in proximity. And by the way her jaw is starting to crack as its mouth opens wider than should be humanly possible, this creature _eats_ humans. He starts to back up, some instinct telling him to run, to get the fuck away right now, but it’s fast, and before he knows it the thing is on top of him, snarling messily, thick drool all over its chin. A chin that’s hanging halfway down its throat.

Izaya didn’t feel too embarrassed about the yell that escapes his throat when it moves almost too fast to be seen, partially because he was a kid and mostly because that’s what saved his life. He’s tackled, hitting the ground painfully. All he can think, as fingers like claws grip his shoulders, is that this is where he dies and another protesting sound escapes his throat. But, something about the fear in his voice must have spurred something inside Shizuo, some knee jerk instinct kicking hard enough to send the blond into action.

He tackles the monster from behind, bringing a hand up between the monsters teeth and Izaya’s throat, taking the bite that would surely have killed him. It chomps down with no hesitation, biting through flesh and possibly bone by the way Shizuo’s whole body jerks in pain. She shakes her head like a dog, angry like what little remains of the girls mind hates Shizuo and Izaya can’t figure out why.

That had been the day, so clear in Izaya’s mind, that everything had changed.

Shizuo managed to take the once human creature down, with Izaya’s help. Once they have her pinned -and why the hell is he still thinking of it as a her?- he holds it still and instructs Shizuo to remove the head. He does just that. The head keeps moving, keeps trying to bite them, until they smash the skull hard enough that its brains, somehow mostly unrotten like the rest of it, splatter everywhere.

They clean up as best as they can. The body decomposes at an alarming rate, all flesh and brains gone by the time they’ve cleaned up the blood and pie and thrown everything in a garbage bag with the the bones. They quietly wash all the fallen pots and pans, wiping down every surface as the school staff would have done, and leave the school by the time it’s dark. Naturally, Izaya picks the lock to get out, possibly because Shizuo is shaking too hard to break the doors. It’s probably for the best, anyway.

They trek to the dump, a mile away, and leave the garbage bag in the trunk of a car to be destroyed. Izaya, of course, also picks the lock to that. He then picks up a conveniently abandoned crow bar, rusty, old, and heavy in his hands. He wishes he’d had the mind to lock the gate, too, not that that could much deter a beast like Shizuo.

“It bit you,” He states calmly, a bitter feeling spreading through his chest. Shizuo, still too shaken to pick up on the obvious, turns to him with a lost look of despair.

“Huh…?”

“I can’t let you infect any of my dear humans, Shizu-chan…” He manages to bite back the lump in his throat, baffled by it’s presence, and easily stomps down the voice screaming at him that he’s got something wrong, that he’s missing something obvious. He’s seen movies, he knows how these things work. He has to kill Shizuo before it’s too late.

“Wha-?” Shizuo doesn’t manage to dodge the first swing, head swinging and jaw cracking with the force. He stumbles back a little, more to move out of range than actual pain, the damned monster.

Izaya swings again, hoping to land enough blows to Shizuo’s head that he disoreates the blond enough to get him motionless on the ground. From there he already has vague plans to carve out the beasts heart. It’s barbaric, not his style at all, but he’ll do what he can to protect his humans. That’s a God’s duty, right?

“I saved your life!” Shizuo angrily protests the next swing, ducking under and coming back to himself with the adrenaline rush this fight is already bringing. Izaya sets his jaw with determination shining in his gaze, hair mused from earlier and clothes streaked with a combination rust, dirt, and blood. It’s reminiscent of his eyes, as if Satan himself chose those three things to be combined, creating Izaya’s eyes out of rust, dirt, and blood. As if they were there to always warn humanity of the evil lurking inside.

“You were bitten,” Izaya says sourly. Shizuo grabs the crow bar on the fourth swing, trying to tug it from Izaya’s firm grip. He only succeeds in bringing Izaya into his personal space. He grabs for Izaya’s wrists instead, and the crowbar falls somewhere forgotten by their feet.

“Look,” He sighs, over Izaya’s protests and struggle. “I’m already...already a- _urgh!”_ Izaya curves his back, letting Shizuo’s strength hold him up as he lets both his feet swing upward. His left smashes into Shizuo’s face, pushing off along with his right to swing over his head and break the hold on his wrists. He drops to his feet, taking off in a run as soon as he’s steady.

“Bastard!” Shizuo roars, following him with ease. The dark is apparently not the deterrent he’d hoped it was,as Shizuo follows Izaya’s zig zagging form through this ugly garden of forgotten trash and memories with ease.

 _‘Shit!_ ’ Izaya’s trying hard to think quickly, to formulate some plan to get himself out of this alive and the monster chasing him defeated. There’s the car crusher dead ahead, but he doesn’t have the device to operate it, let alone an idea on how to lure Shizuo and keep him there.

He gasps suddenly as he trips over some rusted old thing, flying forward and smacking into the car crusher. He groans, falling back onto his ass with a hiss of pain and Shizuo’s roar echoing behind him. He brings a hand to his head, bringing it back sticky and wet as pain throbs.

Something gleams then, catching his carefully trained eye. He’s drawn towards a shiny little device, because it’s odd, considering nothing here should be in good condition. He reaches for it, heart pounding as he hears Shizuo catching up to him. In his semi dazed state it takes him a second to recognize the device as a little remote.

Specifically, the one used to operate the powerful machine he’d just brained himself on.

Izaya stands shakily, breath coming short and quick.Turning, he can feel blood streaming down his face, though it doesn’t obscure his view of a livid Shizuo Heiwajima. Thinking quick, Izaya mashes a random button on the remote, relieved when the machine whirs to life. When Shizuo is close enough he pulls them both onto the flat surface of the crushing platform, pleased when his enemy takes no notice of his trap.

“I won’t let you destroy humanity,” he hisses, grinning maniacally as he dodges a punch to the face. Shizuo’s fist goes through the bottom of the platform right by his feet, and before he can rip himself free Izaya moves around him and throws himself over the beast to hold him down with strength he didn’t realize he has.

“What the fuck!?” Shizuo bucks, but Izaya presses down as hard as he can, heart pounding as the top of the machine lowers all too slowly. He feels Shizuo go stiff with realization of their predicament. His breath starts to match Izaya’s, harsh and quick, and he begins to struggle much, much harder. Izaya barely holds on. "What- what the fuck? THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN'?!"

Shizuo wrenches his arm free, somehow uninjured, bucking him off as he does. Izaya knocks against one of the walls, too disorendeted to know which one, and grits his teeth as he gets back up. Grabbing Shizuo before he can get away, he flips them so he’s underneath the beast this time.

He locks his legs around Shizuo’s waist and shoves his own arm through the hole the monster had made. Metal slices him in far too many places, sending licks of pain up his arm and down his spine, but he ignores it in favor of the glee gleaned from watching the top of the machine start to press down upon Shizuo’s head.

“G-ggh! You-you crazy little shit!” Shizuo braces his hands against the top of the machine doomed to end them. Thick sweat drips down his neck, soaking the back of his shirt as he fights to prevent it from crushing them both. Izaya laughs as he sees his arms tremble violently under the strain, just a breath away from snapping.

“I told you, I won’t let you infect my humans!” Shizuo tries to pull away, but Izaya’s legs are locked and his arm shoved deep enough in the hole to keep his body from being pulled away.  
He sees Shizuo realize with a sick look of panic that Izaya’s trapped himself, just to get rid of him.

“You’ll die too!” It comes out more of a plea than the threat Shizuo’s probably intended it to be. He hunches over with withering strength barely holding the crusher back. “Damn it, damn it!” He hisses over Izaya’s crazed laughter. “You crazy fucker!”

The machine is groaning, and it’s so, so funny that sparks are literally flying around he and Shizuo. No matter how hard the blond wrenches his waist Izaya won’t break his hold on him. Shizuo’s eyes are darting around in the darkness, as if he’s trying to come up with some plan, some way to stop this, and Izaya wishes he’d accept his fate and let go because the longer he watches that machine lower inch by inch, the more he wants to scream and fight instead of stay here with a monster to save humanity.

He thinks of his little sisters at his funeral, prying open his closed casket to find his dead body mangled and crushed. He thinks of Shinra, barely reacting to the news of his death, happy because his Celty will probably comfort him for awhile. He thinks of the afterlife, and the terrifying unknown of what happens next.

Of course they don’t die.

Something snaps, almost audibly, and Izaya opens his eyes from where he hadn’t realized he’d closed them. Shizuo trembles, head bowed, skin flushing like he has a high fever, then going deathly pale. _‘The change,’_ he thinks distantly, but it feels different. He watches Shizuo straighten up with yellow tinted eyes, growling low in his chest like Izaya’s never heard before. The machine lifts, somehow, an impossible feat considering this things crushes cars and vans and god knows what else.

Shizuo stands to his full height suddenly, pushing hard enough to actually break the car crusher, one hands curling and depressing into whatever impossibly strong material it must be made out of and wrenching the actual platform above them free from the rest of the machine. He throws it, sending it flying somewhere deep into the junkyard.

After a moment of tense silence he comes back to himself enough to rip Izaya’s arm free, ignoring his protesting cry of pain. Blood weeps down his arm from the flesh, cut to ribbons by sharp metal. The smell is thick in the air, and more runs down his face from a nasty gash in his forehead. Izaya waits for Shizuo to attack, skin a horror show of plasma and rot, but before his eyes the rotten flesh begins to heal and recead. His eyes lose their yellow tint, and a shake of Shizuo’s head brings back his usual tan complexion.

_‘What the fuck?’_

“Zombie?” Izaya bites out weakly, stepping off the machine only for his exhausted body to betray him by collapsing against the ground. He passes out, of course he does, but not before he hears Shizuo’s reply...

“Half zombie.” Shizuo answers, doing the same. “You stupid... _stupid_ little fuck nugget.”


	2. Walking Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeyyy! Back with this one, so yay! I um, I didn't really clean it up much. I just wrote it. I'm so lazy, I know I know, but I just needed to update this lest I lose interest

“I’m going home,” Izaya finally says, pulling his arm from Shizuo’s grasp. “I’m tired.”

“No, we have to try again,” Shizuo protests, following Izaya out of the alleyway like an angry, blonde puppy. “We still don’t know what’s causing all these zombies to appear!”

“I think you mean who,” he replied, sighing. This was deliberate, he thought, it had to be. If there was something in the water or a food source, he’d know all about it. No, people were going missing and they, he and Shizuo, were finding them zombified. Worst of all, there was no real connection between victims. They just turned up, usually where Shizuo and Izaya were, drawn to them inexplicably. Never found or reported anywhere on the news, and Izaya would know, being so deep in everything going on in Ikebukuro.

“Whatever. We just need to capture one of them already, before some kids find our trap or somethin’.”

“Why couldn’t you just resist eating your fellow monsters, Shizu-chan?” They were in Ikebukuro, currently, having just finished another unsuccessful hunt. “You’d have to transport the trapped creature once we had one anyway, do you really think you could keep from having yourself a little snack? Hmm?”

“That’s different,” The fight drained from Shizuo’s shoulders as he trailed behind Izaya, telling him he had resigned to quit for the night. It’s late, almost 3am. Even monsters got tired, Izaya supposed.

“Why? Why couldn’t you just have dragged the monster to the trap instead of eating it?” Shizuo didn’t need to eat brains to survive, but the physical benefits were a big part of what kept his strength with him, even in “human” form. And yet Shinra had always claimed he was human. Hah! There was a reason Shizuo never let his blood be drawn.

“Cause…” Shizuo mumbled, drawing another sigh from Izaya. It was clear he wasn’t getting any straight answer from the idiot, so once he spotted a late night/early morning taxi, he moved to hail it down, hoping he would be seen instead of run over in the darkness.

“Wait!” Tch, the taxi passed them by, the driver swiftly pretending he didn’t see them when Shizuo’s bloodied form came into view. Damn it.

“What?” He huffed, irritated he’d lost his ride home.

“It’s so late to be going home...why don’t you just stay the night? We’re not far...” Shizuo offered, absently rubbing the back of his neck. Izaya shrugged, a little displeased, but accepting.

“Sure, why not.” It wasn’t the first time he’d stayed over, but that didn’t make him entirely comfortable with the situation.

“Great,” Shizuo smiled like he was relieved, and they headed to his apartment.

* * *

 

 “I can’t not kill the others,” Shizuo blurted later, when they were in the quiet darkness of Shizuo’s apartment. The blonde had agreed to take the couch, not unusual for when Izaya stayed over. “When I see them...attacking someone. Someone like you, for example,” Shizuo said awkwardly.

“What? Don’t try to tell me you’re protective, now?” Izaya laughed, shaking his head. “That’s a huge load of shit, Shizu...are you limping?”

“Ah, Yeah. The last one bit a good chunk out of my calf.”

“Hmm.” Izaya cast a wary eye over him, seeing the conflicting emotions flit across Shizuo’s face. What the brute could possibly be considering so carefully, some feeling deep in Izaya’s chest told him he didn’t want to know.

“The bed would be more comfortable for that,” Izaya finally said, stepping forward to take the spare blanket and pillow from him. “I can just take the couch inste-”

“Or... we could share.”

“Oh my, Shizu-chan, how scandalous!” Izaya laughed, pushing past Shizuo towards the couch. The brute huffed behind him, frustrated, and Izaya felt a tug at his elbow.

“It’d be more comfortable. Didn’t you hurt your back earlier, flea?”

“Nope, not at all. Would you like me to prove it?”

“How would you even prov-hey!” Izaya backed up quickly several feet to the opposite end of Shizu’s living room, then took a running start. He used the momentum to do a backflip through the air, landing only a few inches from Shizuo’s face with a wide grin.

“Proof enough?”

“Show off,” Shizuo snapped, turning and stomping to his bedroom. He slammed the door, much to Izaya’s delight.

“Nighty night, don’t let the fleas bite!” Izaya called, just to be an ass.

He got no response.

* * *

 

**December 30th, 1999**

Leukemia… the first thing that comes to mind are bald children, with brave smiles and tubes in their nose, right? Or maybe you knew someone who had it, or you yourself had it, unfortunately, so you think of pain and hospitals and fear. You think of dour faces and frowns and serious conversations, most likely.

Yeah. Yuuto wasn’t having any of that.

“It’s progressed too far-” He knew that. He could feel it. The way he was feverish so often and the way pain radiated through his skeleton.

“What it is, exactly, is the excess-” He knew that too. He knew what it was, he was a hematologist for fucks sake. Don’t lecture a hematologist about cancer of the blood.

“It’s progressed so far, we don’t know how someone like you didn’t notice-” He noticed! He knew, he saw the symptoms, and he’d been scared. So scared…

“You have about-”

“Stop.” Smiling, Yuuto held up a shaky hand. “I’d rather not know.” The doctor looked taken about, brushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

“...If we start treatment right away, there’s a chance-”

“No.” He stood up, gave a polite bow, and headed out of the hospital, ignoring the calls of the doctor.

No, no, he wasn’t going through that. He wouldn’t survive it. A man like him, he didn’t have any family or friends to rely on. It would be him, the doctors, and the machines. Sure, Miku-chan might pay a visit, but that wouldn’t be enough.

He didn’t go home. Cold, bare, no one to greet him or comfort him, no… he wasn’t spending his last hours there. Instead, he went to his office, where he kept different tools and paperwork on his various patients. It was late afternoon, but he was fairly sure he didn’t have any appointment scheduled.

He was wrong.

It was while the sun was setting, the last golden rays shining through the blinds of his windows and spilling over the puddles of blood seeping through slit wrists that a patient, Miku Aikawa, suffering from Sickle Cell Anemia, found him bleeding out. She’d panicked, as anyone would, and this is what saved Dr. Yuuto Kurouchi’s life.

The following events are quite a blur. He remembers that Miku ran, remembers feeling sad that the young girl had to see him like that, and remembers the way the blood pooled around him burned his feverish skin. There’s a woman, then, in all black and matching black helmet. Black bandages are wrapped tightly around his wrists, though he could have sworn they’d materialized out of thin air, as if made of shadow. Miku is begging the woman to help him, either too young to understand he did this on purpose or uncaring.

The woman nods, says nothing and they move him. There’s a motorcycle, speeding through the city at top speed, though he swears it neighs at him. Fever dreams are a trip, really.

“He needs a transfusion,” there’s a young boy, there, 15 at most and too young to be the one quickly cleaning the wounds and stitching his wrists.

“We’re out? Oh, dear.” He’s finished the stitches now, and is leaning over Yuuto with a smile. “Looks like you’ll die.”

 _“Please,”_ Miku sobs in the background. Odd, he hadn’t even noticed her coming along. “You can use mine, he-he once said we’re the same type, O negative...”

Yuuto coughs out a weak laughs, raising his hand a little to wave away the idea. “She has...sickle cell...anemia. Too dangerous…”

“Mm, this is a problem,” he boy sighs, though his attention is caught by the biker lady. “Oh? Shizuo’s blood, that’s right, I took some yesterday when he fell asleep here! Aww don’t look at me like that,” he whines at her, though through the helmet Yuuto doesn’t know how the body can possibly see her expression. “But I don’t have enough…”

“Use mine too! Then you’ll have enough, right?”

“Miku,” he protests, through his dizziness, but he’s ignored. He fades in and out while they transfer the blood, and the burning of the fever intensifies.

“Hurts,” he cries, at one point, but it is also ignored. Something is wrong, his blood is screaming, and his eyes are hot like twin suns burning in his skull.

He wakes up and feels better than he has in months.

Sitting up is easy, pain free, aside the throbbing in his wrists. He suspects he’s on pain meds, though.

“I had to give up my entire sample!” The boy from before is wailing to the biker woman across the room. She holds up some device and- oh, that makes sense, she’s mute. And angry, by the way her hand goes to her hip and she waves the device in his face.

“Well, yeah, maybe 2 full liters was excessive, but you saw him! He didn’t even notice!” She shoves the device closer, angrily, and Yuuto suspects she says something like “That’s not the point!”

They’d make a cute couple, he thinks.

“Ah, you’re awake,” The boy exclaims suddenly, turning his attention to Yuuto. “That’s good, I was hoping to run some tests-”

“No. No, I’d rather you not…” He hedges, glancing to the sheets. “I’d like to go home, actually…”

“Well, see, the thing is that you tried to kill yourself and it took a lot of work to save you.”

“I’ll pay you a sufficient amount.” He’s jumping off a bridge as soon as he gets out of here.

“That’s reassuring, but not my main concern. You had some strange symptoms, some fascinatingly strange ones, actually, and I’d really like to monitor you a little longer.”

“What are you, in middle school?” Yuuto usually isn’t so rude, but really, the boy doesn’t even look old enough to shave. “How would you even know what to monitor?”

“Just started high school, actually,” the boy says easily, adjusting his glasses. Highschool, eh? Just like Miku…

“Where is Aikawa-san?” He asks suddenly worried about her condition.

“My darling Celty drove her home!”

“...what’s a Celty?” He asked, frowning. The woman in black comes forward, holding out a PDA.

[That would be me. Miss Aikawa said her parents were there to watch her condition...just what is your relationship her her? She was very desperate to help you.]

“I’m her doctor,” He smiles. “A hematologist, ironically enough… I really should go now.” He’s dizzy when he stands, swaying a bit. “I need to make sure she’s okay, you took blood from her right?”

“Yes, we had to. But it wasn’t much, and we gave her juice and everything!” Shinra exclaims proudly, looking to the woman, Celty, for praise. She gives none.

[She’ll be alright. She seemed lively, and she said her parents were home.]

“Thank you.” He gets their information, where he’d send the money. He decides he might as well, he can spare a few minutes writing out a check, can stop by the bank on his way to the bridge, after he checks on Miku.

Of course the girls parents aren’t home.They never are, wouldn’t be for months last time he checked and never called. All her appointments are attended alone.

He finds her feverish, still in her school uniform, sprawled near the phone, unconscious from the strain of having crawled there. He decides it doesn’t look all that serious, takes her back to his office where he has all the proper equipment needed to take care of her. What’s a few days more of pain and depression of the inevitable?

Except...there is no pain. None. Except for his wrists, of course, but even that isn’t nearly as bad as it should be. The boy who treated him revealed he’d not used any painkillers after all, claiming it dangerous when so many suicides took them along with slit wrists to make sure the job gets done, and to make things a little easier. He’s just glad they didn’t have the equipment to pump his stomach.

It’s when he’s coming back from a bathroom trip, washing his hands,that he glances into the mirror and freezes. It’s his eyes. Dull and brown, nothing special there, except the greenish blue tint they’ve taken. It’s not overly obvious, but it’s different, and different is alarming.

He tries not to dwell on it too much, thinking that it doesn’t matter, of course, not like anything matters anymore, but he finds himself going back to the mirror again and again to look.

By nightfall, his eyes are a full blown mossy green.

“I...like the contacts,” Miku compliments him, falling back asleep shortly after. Her condition isn’t good.

_Fuck._

He runs some tests, drawing his own blood with practised ease and studying it for hours. It’s different, there are new blood cells that shouldn’t there! Red blood cells, he thinks, though the color is tinted green, and green doesn’t mix well with red, so the cells wind up almost an off orange color.

He had zero explanation.

It seems, too, that the bone pain is gone. Three days go by as his wrists heal too quickly and his eyes remain a disturbing shade of green and his bones feel normal again. He stays pale, but grows strong, and watches the cancers cells destroyed by the greenish orange ones.

It’s a miracle. He’s so absorbed in it that he forgets most everything else, including Miku. He thinks she calls for him, sometimes, but he’s too busy studying the mutation in his blood for the most part. He writes down everything he can, isolates various samples to study and experiment with later.

He only remembers Miku when he finds her file, looking for a fresh notebook to fill.

“Oh, _God,_ I’m so sorry, Aikawa-san,” he whispers, approaching the couch he’d set her up on days ago, fearing the worst when he gets no response. He finds her alive, though just barely.

“I can save you,” He says, to her pale, unconscious form. He injects her with his blood, twice, just to be safe, and sets up a temporary feeding tube and IV. Amazingly, she gets better. The new cells destroy the infection within the hour, and her fever breaks easily. She’s up and walking the next morning, babbling about missing school and unaware of what he’s done.

“Thank you for helping me, Kurouchi-sensei!” She hugs him, tightly, whispering that she’ll be back to visit soon. He hugs back, a little too tightly, before waving her out. He has to go document his success, anyway.

“I’m humanity’s saviour,” he crows to himself excitedly, storing away a petri dish that contained Miku’s blood mixed with his own without taking a look at the results. That can come later. He’d glad he didn’t wait to see the results of that before injecting her. She wouldn’t have made it.

“This mutation,” he’s speaking of his own blood, completely believing it’s naturally from him and him alone, “this will save the world of all blood diseases!”

He fantasises of the medals awarded to him, of world wide fame. He thinks of Miku, oddly enough, and can’t quite shake the picture of a healthier, older version of her, wishing him a good day from their fancy house on his way to make speeches and shake hands with world leaders.

...How silly.

Still, he can’t shake it, until he notices it’s around the time for school to be out, and decides to pick her up and take her for ice cream. In a friendly way, of course, she’s only 15, but the flustered excitement in his stomach makes him feel a little sick with himself.

He gets worried when she doesn’t leave with all the other students, and more worried when the clubs leave as well.

He heads into the school, empty and dark, and is drawn towards the cafeteria by a shout.

“Izaya, stay back!” Yuuto peeks through the crack in the door, curious, and finds two boys, one with red eyes that stands out to him. “It’s a-...it’s not human.”

_Oh, God._

It’s Miku. It’s his Miku, Her eyes are green at the irises, similar to the color of his own, and yellow at the whites, and he’s alarmed to see her skin has taken on a rotting greenish color. She lunges at a dark haired boy, attempting to bite him with inhuman ferocity. The blonde boy stops her, though he can’t see how by the way they’re turned, and feels his heart sink when they pin down the girl who’s no longer human.

They fucking decapite her, the blonde having some sort of inhumane strength, and he runs away.

His dreams shatter around him.

It’s weeks before he hears anything about her disappearance on the news, and by that time he’s closed down his business and moves to a new location on the other side of Ikebukuro. He looks at the sample of Miku’s blood and his own, and finds the orange cells have turned a sour green, all of them, and are starting to die.

If he cries, no one knows.

“This is my fault,” he whispers, looking over his notes again and again. He doesn’t understand, doesn’t see how this could have happened, when she’d been so lively and healthy. How she’d smiled at him, and hugged him, and now he’d never see her again, never see that lovely girl he wanted to build a life with, when she was old enough and would surely have said yes.

Great. He’s sick _and_ grieving.

It’s not till he’s looking over a patient, an old woman living alone with no family, complaining of unusual symptoms and here because she’s sure it’s to do with her blood, that he thinks of trying again. A few quick tests prove she’s fine, just old and over thinking things.

“I think I have just the thing to help, Inoue-san” He says calmly, injecting her with a fresh syringe of his blood. He makes her stay, even when she begins to get nervous, retrains her when she starts to cry for help and beg him to let her leave.

In 6 hours time, around 11PM, her eyes turn that ugly green and she begins to rapidly lose all coherency. She struggles, biting at the air, flesh rotting, and growling.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He runs the tests, so many tests, and can’t decide what to think when she breaks free of her bonds. He panics, thinking of the dark haired boy and expects she’ll bite him, but she skirts around him like he’s on fire and escapes through a window.

In the following days, where he ignores his conscience in his lingering grief for Miku and his dreams, there are no reports of her, or creatures like her. He never rots, never loses his mind like them, and keeps pursuing his experiments, determined to get it right.

He hears talk one day of a boy who’s dyed his hair bright blonde to warn people, some kind of delinquent, and does the same. Except he goes with dark green.

It makes him feel less guilty, as he starts luring in the homeless and the old and the forgotten with promises of free checkups and food, etc. A professional man would never dye his hair green, so by that logic, those that trust him are the ones at fault.

That makes sense, right?

He moves to a bigger location, one with a huge, convenient basement no one really knows about, and starts storing his “experiments.” Men, Women, a few children when he can get them, although he’s usually very kind to them first, of all different ages and blood types. The ones who are kept unchanged for testing purposes start to call him the Zombie Doctor. He takes to gagging them when their desperate pleas and angry accusations get on his nerves. He lets the fully turned experiments go, and never sees or hears about them again. This probably isn’t smart, but someone is taking care of them, and he quite frankly doesn’t give a shit.

One day, a shady man comes in. He’s got a stern frown, sour attitude, and sharp eyes.

“We’ve noticed,” he says, referring to his shady operation of people and the many disappearances. “No one else has, but we have.”

He’s handed a list of names with pictures, and a lot of money, with promises of more if he starts using these people instead of the homeless and the forgotten. He agrees easily, and makes plenty of money to fund his experiments, takes to liking his job more and more knowing he’s using only the scum of Japan to save the world. He’s a hero, really.

* * *

 

Years go by. He gets so much information, has a whole process, but he’s still no closer to figuring out how he got this mutation and why he isn’t a monster. The Leukemia stays gone, his eyes stay green, and Miku’s painful demise haunts him constantly.

He begins to feel hopeless, restless, wishes he could find some way to make himself feel better even if he thinks it’s selfish. It’s not till he’s handed that months list, and spots the picture of one man in particular with dark hair and familiar red eyes.

Izaya Orihara, one of the two boys from all those years ago.

Oh, this was going to be _fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you don't hate me for going SO into detail with Yuuto. I also hope you didn't completely lose interest. It's getting to the Shizaya, I swear!
> 
> Comments fuel me <3

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought I'd share this little bit of edited out story. There were points where I accidentally changed to Shizuo's POV and decided to share a paragraph detailing his transformation thing. Hope you find it interesting :p Keep in mind it's messy since I didn't bother to fix it up
> 
> His eyes burn, but that’s about the only pain Shizuo feels. The usual feeling takes hold, as if he had an intense fever, and he lets it ripple through his body. The air sparks with a sudden stench, the smell of rot, as his skin turns a deathly pale. His thoughts shut off like an unplugged tv, and no longer is half his brain holding his body back. He straightens up, pushing back against the car crusher with enough quick force to break it. Sparks fly, the machine makes a dreadful noise, and ll downward force stops. He growls, mind hazy with the smell of Izaya’s flesh. 
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you thought!


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